


One Hand in Mine, One Round Your Neck

by DeviousMachinations



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Childhood Friends, Choking, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Politics, Slow Build, Slow Burn, War, no beta we die like Glenn, the boys have a lot of things to process in this one fam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25303795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviousMachinations/pseuds/DeviousMachinations
Summary: Choosing the path had been the easy part.He had been prepared to take this path, to cut his own way in the world. One that wasn't his father's ideal, that wasn't his brother's and that wasn't the boar's. He wouldn't fall to blind obedience and praise for a chivalry that ended his brother's life. He was prepared to refuse to follow a king whose bloodlust he saw first hand, and yet he had shook when he heard he had died. And when the rumors surfaced years later about a mad boar-like commander leading the remaining Faerghus resistance against Adrestia?Felix swore it would be him to put down the mad king for good.(In which Felix and Dimitri meet again after ten years and don't realize they're sworn enemies and when they do they've already started to fall.)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In re-reading my absolute favorite 90s shoujo manga I felt compelled to tell a similar story with Dimilix as the focus! I am so so very excited to bring this to y'all and hope you'll also enjoy it as I continue to write! This will take a little bit to get going I expect so please bear with me as it builds up!
> 
> Still debating on any other sort of side relationships in this, but mainly it's going to focus on Felix and Dimitri. As far as tags go they will be continuously updated as I continue this fic! But please know there will be porn later, and some v unfortunate things, but much much later. But with that out of the way please enjoy~

It started in the spring, when the warmth of the sun was finally enough to melt the last few piles of snow and small yellow and purple flowers had started showing all across the fields in Fhirdiad. The weather was still chill enough for some coverings but was not altogether unpleasant. It was the perfect weather for finally being outside after another long Faerghian snow.

Taking advantage of the weather, a meeting was called among all of the notable Lords of Faerghus. Discussions were being planned for the various diplomatic meetings that would take place over the next few months with the Leicester Alliance and Adrestian Empire. As such the various lords’ children were left to the courtyard to play. Looking across the white and green lawn, a red haired boy could be seen lifting up a wooden sword triumphantly. Across from him was a smaller black haired boy who had been knocked to the ground with ease not moments before, hot tears welling up in his eyes, his own wooden weapon on the ground next to him. Seconds after, a blond haired girl ran to the redhead and immediately started berating the boy still holding the sword.

“That’s not fair, Sylvain!” the blond haired girl placed her hands on her hips and Sylvain, the shamed redhead, turned up his nose at her.

“Felix wanted a fight! He wanted to try out some new move he learned from Glenn, it’s not my fault he couldn’t pull it off.” The words burned in Felix’s head and he took in a sharp, wobbly intake of breath, grabbing his sword as he stood.

“I can!” Felix’s words were indignant and even the girl seemed skeptical. Sylvain stuck out his tongue at the declaration and Felix’s red face twisted into a pout as he pointed the sword back at the redhead. “A-again, let's do it again.”

“Ahem.”

The trio turned and saw a tall man framed against beautiful worn stone, the entrance to the grassy courtyard framing his handsome features as his face carried a look of soft sternness. To his side was a younger boy, dressed in blue finery with furs. The younger boy didn’t move toward them until the taller man gave him an encouraging push. Sylvain and the blond haired girl immediately dropped into a bow, leaving Felix staring out with confusion for a few precious moments before being yanked down.

“Ingrid who’s that with Glenn,” his voice was hushed as Felix looked to the girl who had pulled him down.

“That’s the prince,” Ingrid quickly answered, her face flushed a light shade of pink.

Staring into the grass, Felix heard the crunching of boots on the sparse remains of snow. He felt his mind wander and peeked up from under his dark bangs. The prince was blond, like the king who Felix had only seen once during Glenn’s ceremony last year to become an official part of the Royal Knights. Had he seen the prince there? Felix’s family had of course been close to the front, but his patience hadn’t been good, and he only really had eyes for his brother as he walked down the procession before kneeling in front of King Lambert. Felix had declared to his brother later on the carriage ride home he’d be swearing his own oaths soon in the guard just behind Glenn and Glenn had laughed.

The prince didn’t seem anything super special to Felix. The prince stopped in front of the three of them and when he spoke his voice came out even, “You don’t need to bow. Please, stand.”

They did. Sylvain brushed a finger under his nose and after looking at Glenn for a moment spoke up, “So, you wanna fight with us?” Ingrid frowned, immediately disapproving and punched Sylvain in the arm. He yelped in response and grasped at his arm.

“Syl _vain_ , you can’t just expect His Highness to want to play around with kids,” she insisted. He rubbed his arm with a pout. Turning to the prince she continued, “I’m so sorry.”

The blond boy held up his hands with a smile and shook his head, “No no, it’s not...I would actually like to join you if that's alright.” The words incited a sound of triumph from Sylvain who smirked haughtily at Ingrid.

“See Ingrid? His Highness is down for a game or two!”

The prince smiled. A perfect smile. “I certainly acce-”

“Well, you’ll just have to wait your turn,” Felix spoke up this time, cutting off the prince who seemed startled. Felix was a little put out at the fact that Sylvain seemed to have forgotten that he was supposed to rematch _him_. Regardless of a prince or whoever coming here, he wanted to pull the move off on Sylvain this time, and it was especially important because Glenn was _here._ His brother was here and that meant he couldn’t fail, he was going to surpass him one day after all. 

Ingrid had opened her mouth to berate Felix, but the prince answered first, “Oh, of course,” and moved to sit on a stone bench a few feet away from the action. Glenn crossed into the courtyard as the prince moved, taking a seat at one of the other stone benches on the far end, a vantage point that vetted him a wide view of the area. Ingrid, sighing, took a place beside the prince as Sylvain seemed put out by the reminder that Felix still wanted a rematch.

“Your Highness, we settled the matter already-” Sylvain tried to answer airily, but doubled back a few steps as Felix swiped at him with his wooden sword, impatient. There weren’t any more words that needed to be spoken. Felix was determined and despite how much of a crybaby Sylvain knew Felix could be, he also knew Glenn was here and Felix wasn’t going to let this go. Instead he shrugged, feigning a casual tone as he spoke once more, “Well, I suppose there’s no getting around it…”

There was one thing Felix would later come to appreciate about Sylvain, and that was the fact that he never did anything he seriously cared about in half measures. Felix’s first strike was wide, but he paused the swing halfway, correcting on the fly as Sylvain brought his own sword in a flashy overhead swing. Staggering under the heavy strike, Felix grimaced as Sylvain was clearly using his superior height to his advantage.

Summoning strength, Felix pushed Sylvain back who was forced to take a step back and readjust his weight. That readjustment was what Felix was looking for, moving in for an aggressive jab, but the redhead in front of him was all too familiar with Felix’s sword work, and drove the jab off to the side easily with his blade. This, Sylvain knew, would frustrate the shorter boy and cause him to attack more recklessly. The next hit would come to his left, and it did, and with it came another easy slide of wood against wood as the redhead pushed Felix’s sword away from his shoulder.

Felix inched ever closer, his strikes more and more off the mark as Sylvain danced to the side, a quick flurry of steps and dipped his sword below the black haired boy’s knees. Felix tripped over the sturdy stick and went tumbling forward into the grass headfirst. He scrambled to try to get to his feet, but Sylvain was there, his wooden sword poking uncomfortably against his neck. “Give it up Fe, I win.” Smug as always, Felix spoke lowly and conceded defeat. Hotness stung at his eyes again, but he wouldn’t cry in front of the prince and certainly not in front of his brother.

He took the hand that Sylvain still offered him, and the pat on the back as the prince stood and walked to him. “Do you mind if I borrow your sword?” he asked, he had not brought a weapon, makeshift or not, with him.

Felix frowned, but nodded, pushing it at him, and the blond easily took it. He blinked as he watched Felix go and sit by Ingrid who went immediately to comfort him, a small handkerchief placed with care on his thigh. Stealth wasn’t his strong suit at this age, and Felix failed to take it without it being obvious, his amber eyes wanting to watch the match to come. Glenn would have taken notes on it, and they’d talk about it later. But right now Felix wanted to see the prince wipe the floor with Sylvain.

And he did. It was shocking, even to Ingrid who had also sparred many times with Sylvain and always in secret of her parents knowing at their trio’s favorite hideaway. Felix blinked, it had been over so fast. The prince had finished him in three strokes. The first to test strength, the second knocking Sylvain off balance and the third had sealed the redhead’s fate with his back plastered against the ground and the prince’s sword at his chest. With the prince’s victory came back the burning feeling of rivalry and jealousy. If he could best the prince, who had bested Sylvain, then he would be one step closer to besting Glenn.

Felix jumped off the bench, about to declare that he would be fighting the prince next when the sound of heavy footsteps distracted them. The procession of Lords from the meeting had returned and Felix saw Glenn turn to see their father Rodrigue at the front with the King, talking through smiles. When the two saw Glenn and the children in the courtyard, they took the procession through the entrance and Rodrigue called Glenn over to him.

The Margrave Gautier called Sylvain to him as did the Lord Galatea for Ingrid, and the two children bid Felix goodbyes as they went to their fathers. They bid the King a formal goodbye as they made their way off, leaving just Felix and the prince standing by. The prince turned to Felix and handed him the wooden sword he had been given. “Thank you for letting me use it.”

“‘Course,” Felix felt a little awkward around the prince and in that same breath downhearted at the adults interrupting their battles. The prince had only gotten one fight and Felix had barely been able to articulate his own desire for a match with the crown prince. They technically weren’t supposed to be doing spars unsupervised, but Glenn was nice enough to let them get away with it, much to their father’s constant chastising.

The two boys stood in awkward silence at first listening to Rodrigue in the middle of that exact chastisement of letting the prince spar with Sylvain. Glenn seemed to be ignoring it as much as he could and the King was fraught with amusement at the whole ordeal. It was the prince who was the first to speak up. “You’re Felix Frauldarius, right…?”

“Yes,” he answered a little stiffly, his first one on one interaction with the prince of Faerghus was uncomfortable to say the least. Was he supposed to bow again? He was wracking his mind for his lessons on this but none were coming to mind.

“I’m Dimitri,” the prince continued, a little awkwardly trying to push the conversation along, “Glenn mentioned we’ll be seeing each other a little more. I know you’ll hear about it later but my father has need of yours for a little while so he offered for you to spend time in the palace with us for a while. So...we’ll be seeing each other more.”

“Oh,” Felix was a little surprised but time away from home meant he’d see Glenn more if he was also here staying with his father. “Thanks.”

Dimitri smiled, another perfect smile and Felix furrowed his brow at seeing it. There was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on about it. The prince caught this and looked at him quizzically, “Is something amiss?”

“No,” Felix said quickly, and followed it up with, “You just don’t seem happy.”

Dimitri’s face changed but Felix wasn't watching him anymore. It was at this point Rodrigue finished with Glenn and looked over to Felix and Dimitri. Smiling, he called his youngest son over. Before leaving, Felix was quick to follow up again, “We’re gonna fight next time,” he stated, just loud enough for the prince to hear him before running to greet his father.

Felix had left too quickly to hear the response.

-x-X-x-

Cold water splashed over Felix’s face as he wiped the remaining sleep from his eyes. Pulling his gloves back on he stood from where he had knelt beside the partially frozen over river. His eyes looked out across the expanse, the Faerghian winter had settled in deeply now and he cursed his dreams for bringing back memories of a lightly lit grassy courtyard in kinder times. He pushed the thoughts back and walked back over to where the rest of his traveling party was packing up their belongings.

The commander in charge of their band of mercenaries was a decent man, and kept everyone’s heads on straight. He was in the middle of taking a headcount as Felix leaned against a nearby tree, staring off into space. They were near Fhirdiad. The scent of the trees in winter and the way the pines angled just so against the usual northern wind was just so telling. He knew exactly where they were. He was not marching in the way his father had imagined him to be, probably at the side of the prince he had met in that sunlight courtyard all those years ago.

Felix spit at the thought of it, a scowl darkening his face as the head of the band called the group to fall in line for their continued march north.

The Tragedy of Duscar had sparked this war years and years ago and Felix was loath to think of it without swallowing the anger and grief that he had carried for years. His hand gripped tightly against the familiar leather binding around his sword hilt. Years ago had scripted the bloody history that Felix knew quite well. An assassination of the royal family, those with blue blood put to the sword by the people of Duscar, who also cut down those who served those royals that protected them. Among those of course, Felix’s elder brother. And only the heir to the throne surviving the whole bloody affair.

In the history that ran through his head as they marched and the scenery changed as he noticed part of the forest had peeled away to reveal a cliffside, the same river he had washed up at earlier that morning far below. He lost himself in the scenery and as he did Felix relived the funeral, full of grim faces and sorrowful hymns in the church near his home. Bodies draped in black with tear stained cheeks and a desperate thirteen year old grasping at a corpse who could not answer him nor pick up his sword for the match that would emerge with the younger son victorious for once. He doesn’t remember crying at Glenn’s funeral, but he was sure he did. All with the same stoic expression as the stared into the snow and pine.

At this point in his reminiscing, and as usual, one of the other mercenaries tried to make small talk with him, but Felix brushed him off, telling him that if he had time to talk he had time to be keeping an eye out on the road. In times of war a man couldn’t afford to be caught unawares, precious seconds of attention misdirected from the task at hand spelled death. The man who had tried to talk to him shrugged with a grumble under his breath and Felix rolled his eyes. He wasn’t here to make friends, he was here to fight. Nothing more.

When the first crackle of magic blasted through a branch just ahead of him, striking the man who just seconds before had attempted a conversation with him that Felix drew his sword. Shouts from the commander of their group rang out across the company, “It’s the Faerghus resistance! Move to formation: Red Moon and follow up!” Red Moon meant they would be splitting their company of maybe thirty, the first group would follow the commander forward and the second would be following the co-leader.

Being in the second group, Felix’s eyes flicked among the trees, seeing the enemy just barely through the density of the trees at this distance. It was still early enough that the light around them was blue and weakly reflected off the snow, but for a man of Faerghus it was nothing. It would start soon and Felix took in an even breath, adjusting his weight as his half of the company rushed forward at the contingency of the enemy that they saw. When the opposing forces met there was a brief pause, as if the world stopped to hold its breath before the dying cries of men and women filled it.

Felix’s strikes were calculated and precise with an edge of ferocity. Talk around the campfire had the rest of his company whisper that Felix only ever smiled when he was clashing steel with steel. The smile on his lips as he danced around the trees proved the rumors true. He was a sight to behold, as none could match his speed. An immense asset among the company. Slowly the tide started to turn in Felix’s group’s favor as the resistance, clad in the familiar blues and silvers of Felix’s childhood, started to fall back.

Suddenly there were shouts of terror from the first group and there was a slight pause as a heavy tree fell from where the other group was supposed to be fighting, knocking into other tall pines in a terrifying domino effect. Felix pushed off the soldier he was locked in with, kicking them in the stomach and sending them reeling back into the snow. The co-leader was calling for the party to regroup and head toward the fallen trees. The resistance group they had been fighting were retreating.

Felix turned, angling his blade as he moved with the rest of the group, falling into line with a practiced step. It wasn’t long before familiar voices reached their ears at a pitch, the air was laced once more with battle cries and screams. Among them came the yells that Felix had been waiting for, the reason he had joined this band in the first place and had demanded to be a part of those that went deep into Faerghus territories.

“It’s the mad boar! Oh god it’s him! Saints save us!”  
  
Choosing the path had been the easy part.

He had been prepared to take this path, to cut his own way in the world. One that wasn't his father's ideal, that wasn't his brother's and that wasn't the boar's. He wouldn't fall to blind obedience and praise for a chivalry that ended his brother's life. He was prepared to refuse to follow a king whose bloodlust he saw first hand, and yet he had shook when he heard he had died. And when the rumors surfaced years later about a mad boar-like commander leading the remaining Faerghus resistance against Adrestia?

Felix swore it would be him to put down the mad king for good.

And it was this desire that drove him further forward, consumed with a lust that had plagued him for years. He wove through the trees with a speed that surprised those around him. The downed trees were just ahead of him and he could see the familiar opposing sides at it as he leapt over a trunk and into the fray, the silver of his sword flicking out to carve through another body of blue and silver. Where was he…

Felix’s eyes burned and whirled around, looking. He sought a familiar finery of blue and silver, of straight cut bangs and a fake tone of nobility for all the fighting, of a light yet commanding voice, although Felix supposed it would be deeper at this point. As he walked toward the cliffside edge more bodies fell around him, and close to where the trees were thinner he could see the faces of the soldiers easier. It helped that the remaining soldiers were retreating in that direction. It would be much simpler to pick out a commander, and when he found that commander he could settle the pooling hatred that demanded retribution.

The treeline receded into a thin rocky sliver and Felix soon found himself standing at the edge. This part of the river was traversable by a bridge further down, and he looked in that direction, eyes desperate to pick out the enemy commander, but only saw whirls of blue and gray and brown. His attention in trying to find the object of his revenge caught something amiss across the other side. Soon as he noticed it the air was besieged by a warlike snarl, something dreadfully inhuman and yet it was all the same.

He whirled, his blade drawn up in reaction to the bestial sound, catching a flash of blue, black and white. “What the fuck-” He had barely gotten the curse finished when the ground fell from beneath him. It was then he finally understood what had seemed strange about the other side of the river. Cannons. From the other cliffside were crude iron cannons, a guerrilla tactic and their company had fallen for the soldiers’ retreat. And Felix fell for it as well. Quite literally.

He scrambled to latch onto something, anything but he was falling and his mind was racing. No, no no no. He tightened his grip on his sword and dug it with what strength he could manage into the rocky cliff, it scratched and sparked, struggling to catch until it finally found a nook to groove into, slowing Felix’s descent into a rush of water and rock. His spark of hope let him breathe for a moment as he skidded to a stop, but the cannons above were still firing. More rock and debris were crashing and Felix strained his hands and arms to hold on. Above him a large piece of the cliff splintered and collided downwards, knocking him off his struggling hold on his sword, and sending him under into the depths of the river.

Water filled his mouth as he struggled to the surface among the falling rocks, only to be pulled under again as another splashed next to him, burying him under another wave of water. He pulled himself back up, sputtering and eyes unfocused as his wet bangs stuck to his face in disarray. He grasped for a nearby rock, holding for life as he felt the bodies of those unluckier souls pass by him in the unforgiving river, now stained an unpleasant red in streams.

It was the third time going under that he felt himself slipping and fading and Felix felt consumed with anger. Was this how it was going to end? Bested by some trickery he was sure Claude, the Alliance leader himself, would applaud and before he had even accomplished something close to his goal? The bitterness filled him as did the water yet again.

He was almost too far gone before that feeling surged, allowing him that last bit of strength to break the water again and gain a hold against the rock. The number of bodies around him were sickening. Clinging to the rock he let himself drift in the water, the sound of the cannons getting farther and farther away. He wiped his wet bangs out of his face and looked at the sides of the gorge, still too tall for him to escape up or out of. And was anyone still alive?

Felix looked to either side, and when he chanced a look behind that was when he saw him. He was huge, a hulking frame in dark black armor, blond hair pasted to his face with dampness, just barely clawing against his own rock, but this one was much larger than the one Felix had managed to hold. It could hold the weight of a person, at least. The only thing that gave the swordsman any idea that this man could be alive was the way he adjusted his grip, however weakly it was there.

Just as Felix had resigned himself to letting the unknown man deal with the river on his own when he saw the blond go under, his weak grip had failed to hold any longer against the rock. Felix wasn’t sure why he decided to let go of his own rock. Maybe it was the fact that so many had died, or some part of him was still able to feel compassion or remorse for another life. Or maybe he just respected this other man for clinging to life just as he had. He pushed off his own rock to the larger one the man had been clinging to. It helped the river was flowing in his favor as the large rock came barreling down on him.

Felix placed a hand on the rock before holding his breath and diving. With the river’s flow the man who had gone under would most likely be underneath the rock. His guess panned out and felt through the water, catching the neck piece of heavy armour and pulled. A hand lashed out at him weakly, but the grip felt like a vice against Felix’s wrist as the rock above them passed and Felix pushed up with his legs to break the both of them to the surface. The heavy armor the other man was wearing made it almost impossible, but through a burst of adrenaline both broke the bloody river, gasping for air.

He latched onto whatever was nearby, and the unknown man followed suit, his movements, while sluggish were purposeful, acting on instinct. Nothing else meant more than a desire to live. Above the rush of the water Felix called in a choked voice, “Get your armour off!” And with a weakened hand reached for where he knew a buckle would be, but was promptly smacked away as the waterlogged blond man turned to look at him from where he had been staring moments before. A fierce look bordering on feral to which Felix looked back at him in equal parts anger and disbelief.

For having such sluggish movements from before it was the blond man’s time for a burst of adrenaline as he looped an arm around Felix’s middle, surprising the smaller man and pulling them both off of their newly found safety rock and back into the water to Felix’s protest which was cut off again by a mouthful of water. The bigger man pushed against a slew of rocks, and Felix was struggling to keep others off of him, blood was running into his mouth and he swallowed the iron taste as he felt himself being heaved up and out of the water.

A small landing of loose rock and sediment had formed at this part of the gorge that Felix hadn’t seen among the rushing water and he was hurled unceremoniously onto the uncomfortable rocks. The hulking frame of the man in jet black armor was all the more apparent as he took a few lumbering steps onto the makeshift shore before collapsing. Felix coughed and pulled himself onto his hands and knees, managing to expel some of the water as he looked over at the man he had tried to save.

It would be a long time before he would realize that this was the man he had been looking to kill for all these years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, Dev here again for the chapter notes! 
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with this fic! Things are about to get meaty and a lot of why Felix is doing what he's doing is dropped in this chapter with some more historical context on where I've decided to take divergence from canon. As a heads up if you haven't played Crimson Flower yet or read any of Felix's dialogue for the route a LOT of Felix in this fic is Crimson Flower flavored with a few inferences on my part for him taking the path without the reason of following Byleth.
> 
> I'm leaning into that pretty heavily as well as imagining a Dimitri who didn't benefit from schooling at the Officer's Academy and also meeting Byleth. Which I feel plays super deliciously into enemies to lovers Dimilix, especially if you love a feral, complicated Dimitri as I do. ;)
> 
> As always I love and appreciate all the comments I've gotten so far and hope you'll continue to stick with me! And with that, onward into chapter 2~

Crawling over to the hulking man who was splayed out across the rocks Felix kneeled over him. The man’s blond hair stuck against his face and mouth and scarring could be seen over where his right eye should have been. Hovering over the man’s mouth, Felix listened for breathing. Nothing. Checked for a pulse. Faint.

He cursed, moving the blond’s arm out of the way to get at the clasps and buckles that would be keeping his armor in place. The fucking fool. He should have taken it off when Felix had told him to and tried to help. The movements as he removed the breastplate from the man were so easy and practiced. They came as a second nature. Vague memories of standing in the Fhirdian castle hovered in his mind’s eye as he was instructed by his father on how to help his would be King in and out of his armour. It had also been a task that he would be asked to accomplish for whichever knight he took his squireship with as well. His father’s words echoed dully in his mind:

_"Someday I hope you’ll comfort him in this way, as I do for the King, Felix.”_

He chased the thoughts away, his father’s teachings had been good for something at least. In this moment anyhow. Peeling off the breastplate had taken time and Felix wondered if he would get to performing resuscitation that the man would survive it. He had many different kinds of schooling growing up, and knowing basic first aid was crucial in battle. Learning it had been a bit embarrassing but it was valuable knowledge. And if he did nothing this man who did technically save his life despite also endangering it would die.

Bracing himself he pinched the blond man’s nose and placed his mouth over the drowned man’s. Breathe out. With the breastplate pulled off there was just soaked dark fabric beneath his hand as he felt the chest rise with his breath. Another breath. Pulling away Felix locked his fingers together and pressed quickly against the blond man’s chest, counting out the times out loud to keep his head. It was taking the last of what he had to attempt this. A sputtering cough signaled success as the blond man tossed his head to the side, water coming up and splashing onto the rocks. Felix paused, removing his hands as the man continued to cough out the liquid from his lungs.

A chill blew through, and the gravity of their situation was becoming more and more severe. Looking up Felix saw this small salvation of land also sported a deadened tree, closer to the cliff itself and a small indention in the rocky wall. He looked down to the blond man who had stopped coughing but at least he was breathing somewhat normally now.

“Come on,” his words were shaky and he could feel his wet clothes sticking to him uncomfortably. They needed to get somewhere warmer. The swordsman staggered to his feet and grasped the larger man’s arm. It was a foolhardy attempt at lifting him, Felix didn’t have anything left and stumbled, falling forwards. There was a dull pain against his temple from the fall and his whole body ached as he forced himself to his knees.

The blond man stirred from behind Felix and looking back saw he had flipped over onto his stomach and was shuffling to his feet. He managed a steadiness that Felix envied and walked to where he was getting back up onto his feet. Felix didn’t make the rest of the way up and instead was lifted underneath his arms by a strong arm, “Hey-” The complaint was answered with a snort, followed by a cough. Despite everything, the strength the taller man still had was much more than his own.

And so it was with a heavy bitterness Felix allowed for himself to be carried the rest of the way. He didn’t remember passing out, only finding a tiny comfort in the strong grip that carried him, a feeling that he shoved into the deepest part of himself.

-x-X-x-

Felix didn’t know why his dreams often brought him back to his childhood.

They had started just after he had defected from Faerghus when he turned 20. He had left to become a mercenary and didn’t say a word to his father in leaving. The prince had gone missing two years after the Tragedy of Duscar, the battle to fight the Western Rebellion sparked more and more insurrections and in the constant fighting the prince went missing. The reports claimed he was killed, but many of the nobility had doubts, including the Margrave Gautier and especially Lord Rodrigue Frauldarius. Felix hadn’t been present at the battle they claimed had taken the boar prince’s life. And after he had heard word of it? He wasn’t sure what to feel. Rodrigue had taken charge of the troops in lieu of his majesty’s disappearance, and sent search party after search party, convinced that Dimitri still lived since a body was never found.

Felix attended the war meetings like nothing had happened, a ghost of his former self. He had seen what had become of Dimitri at the battle of the Western Rebellion. Of the lust for death that had overtaken his friend and warped him into a creature Felix did not recognize. And then saw it again, and again, and again. He witnessed the change at every single battle after that until the one he refused to attend. The one where the prince had supposedly died.

At the makeshift funeral the only thought that Felix could summon was: _he was better off dead_ . What made matters worse was his father, his _father_ still remained unconvinced, even as it stretched into years and Dimitri was never found. His father wanted to bring _that_ back. Numerous arguments behind tent flaps at late hours and in the middle of war council meetings regarding search parties had Felix banned from them. To him, it was more of the same blind obedience that had killed Glenn. The same obedience that was expected of him.

The boar would have led them all to their deaths and Felix knew it better than anyone.

Becoming a mercenary meant he was defying his father. Defying the very principle of a lord’s son to blindly obey a king who was already dead. And Felix felt impassioned when he thought of his decision, his stand against chivalrous idiocy. And he also felt empty. But he clung to the path he had decided for himself. For the first few years, it was fine. He avoided anything to do with the Kingdom and instead spent time in Leicester, hiding among the mercenaries that the Goneril family hired on to help stay the Almyrans at Fodlan’s Throat.

He went by his first name on paper, and to everyone else he was the Wolf. If anyone asked him his last name he shrugged and said he didn’t have one. Plenty of people on the battlefield without surnames. He grew out his hair, and adopted a reputation as a mercenary who left a trail of blood in his wake. When the rumor came across the Alliance territories of the thought to be dead Faerghian king fighting like a mad boar on the front lines, Felix left without a word to his commander.

He knew that if the boar was alive as the rumors said, then there would be no hope for anyone in the Kingdom. Felix had made the decision to betray his country, his father, his friends, all to prove he wouldn’t follow a mold blindly, not like everyone else. But it didn’t mean he still didn’t care. And if the boar was truly back, and truly in charge, everyone would die meaningless deaths. If he took care of the boar, at least then he could spare someone that end regardless of what it would mean for him in the eyes of the friends he had left behind. And his father.

He refused to think about what Glenn would say.

It was selfish, and he had spent years telling himself that if the boar ever reappeared, he would take it upon himself to finish the job. Even if that meant working for the Empire, even if that meant killing. Whoever it may be. His father, his friends. Even if it meant becoming the very thing he despised. Felix only had eyes for his goal, and that was the boar’s death by his hand. If he could kill the boar before anyone else died, then it would all stop or at least could be better under a wiser ruler's hand. They all didn't _understand_ what he knew, what he saw. Sylvain had been worst of all to not understand. Felix knew that he was being a hypocrite, allowing himself to be guided by one bloody ruler while refusing another. But he had made his peace with it, he'd do anything.

But the ghosts of those happier memories haunted him, the ones before the change in the prince, it’s content in plaguing him for his decision to cut his own path. Piecing it all together was like trying to crush the pieces of a shattered mirror back into dust. The pieces cut into him and embedded deeply in his skin.

All of the pieces had Dimitri’s reflection.

-x-X-x-

The following months of spring since their first meeting had brought change. First of all being Lord Frauldarius’s presence at the palace in Fhirdiad, accompanied by his wife and their youngest son. The elder son already had a place in the palace among the Royal Guard and it was a charming family reunion, having been apart since the knighting ceremony. Rodrigue Frauldarius spent his days locked in meetings with his dearest friend King Lambert and Felix was left to lessons taken in the accompaniment of the young prince Dimitri. As they were to inherit their fathers’ titles, it seemed only natural that they should take some schooling together.

Lessons in etiquette and manners bored Felix, but he bared it all until sparring lessons in the afternoon. His declaration to Prince Dimitri had stuck in his mind, and he had worried on the initial carriage ride to the Fhirdian palace that perhaps it had been a bad thing to challenge him. A fear that the prince wouldn’t take him seriously considering how he had lost so badly to Sylvain weeks prior. But Dimitri meeting them with his father and Queen Patricia didn’t throw up any warnings to Felix. He was nothing but polite and forthcoming, even throughout their first half of lessons together.

Dimitri hadn’t said much to him altogether in general now that he thought about it when it came to be lunchtime, but there hadn’t been much time to talk outside of the tutors’ strict attention. During lunch the prince was called away to dine with his father, and Felix was allowed to spend some long wanted private time with his brother. Glenn seemed happy for it too and the two conversed about swords and the latest palace gossip, the younger sibling friendly kind of course, and Felix relished every bit of information he got.

By the time sparring did roll around Felix was more than ready to prove himself. “Finally,” he said as the two squared off. The prince had seemed distant until he had spoken, righting his stance as the countdown for their match sounded off. Their instructor was a stern looking man with a shock of short ginger hair and a squarish face. When he gave the signal for them to begin, it was over within seconds, similar yet again to the fight that had happened with Sylvain mere weeks before. Felix was astonished.

Scrambling to his feet he dusted himself off, “Again.” He spoke seriously and their instructor seemed a little irritated at his commanding voice, but acknowledged the second bout. It ended as decisive as the first, with Dimitri the victor and Felix at wooden swordpoint. From there out they were strictly back to drills under the watchful eye of their tutor, but Felix only had eyes for Dimitri the entire time.

“How did you do that.” The demand came shortly after the lessons ended and there were some moments of time before they’d break for tea. The prince wracked his brain for an answer, caught off guard at the demand.

“I followed your movements. You’re quick, but I’m a bit stronger,” the answer was sheepish and tentative, as if he didn’t want to offend him, “And I’ve been taught to use that if I’m faced with an advantage.” It had been a similar case with Sylvain when he and Felix had dueled.

Despite Dimitri’s hesitant answer, Felix was forthright, “You’re right. You are stronger than me.” It was honorable to admit when an opponent had the upper hand over you. He just hated the fact that Sylvain took that honor as a way to rub it in his face, but Dimitri seemed different. And the look he saw reflected from his answer was genuine.

“Do you want to take a walk before tea?” Dimitri’s question came as a genuine surprise to Felix who was just expecting to break for tea and carry on with their day, and he cleared his throat, seeing their tutor staring at the both of them as well as the guards who had attended their lesson.

“Of course, Your Highness.” How could he refuse the prince?

“Very well, Gilbert,” Dimitri turned to their tutor, “Master Frauldarius and I will be taking a short walk before reconvening in the garden for afternoon tea, you may leave us now.” Gilbert bowed, and was quick to take his leave at the command, most of the guard stayed and Dimitri gestured to the stone hallway, “Let’s walk a bit.”

It was uncomfortable. Being with the prince in this way wasn’t exactly something Felix was used to, and the balance of trying to be formal with someone who was probably only a few months older than he was. Something he noticed straightaway is that Dimitri walked at a quick pace, and Felix had to adjust to match his stride. He honestly didn’t know what to talk about, and thankfully Dimitri was happy to fill the space.

“Master Frauldarius,” Dimitri started, as formal as this morning, “Do you...dislike me?”

Felix looked at the prince in surprise. “No? No, I don’t dislike you.” What had led him to that conclusion? The prince took in his answer thoughtfully, mulling it over in his head before continuing.

“Do you remember last year’s winter party for Founding Day?”

Felix struggled to remember. Sylvain and Ingrid had dragged him off to play Loog, Kyphon and Pan. The game had been a little unfair at first with Ingrid and Sylvain arguing, but Felix had loved Kyphon and felt resigned to the role. Sylvain being his uppity self had demanded that none other than he could play Loog with his “charming personality” as he called it. Felix was just happy to play and get away from the stuffy celebration. Other than that he didn’t remember it much, his mother had told him he’d taken a nasty fall while playing but other than that it had been a pretty fun party.

“A bit, I assume you were also present, Your Highness,” Felix found the words to answer. The answer seemed to satisfy Dimitri and he dropped the subject in favor of discussing various weaponry. What Felix liked to learn best, had he learned the sword from Glenn? Who was a knight he admired? Did he have any curiosities about the castle?

It was a conversation that Felix found himself falling into easily. When the questions were directed at him about easy things it was much easier. His favorite weapon was the sword, any kind and he wasn’t picky about it. He had partially learned from Glenn and his father, but also from a swordmaster who lived at the Frauldarius estate, and the knight he admired most was Glenn. His brother told him there was a rumor about a ghost living in the second wing of the palace…

The two boys carried the conversation from their walk into teatime. And when he accidentally spilt a bit of tea onto one of the servants he heard Dimitri laugh for the first time. And he found that when Dimitri smiled it wasn’t as strained, it wasn’t as perfect as his previous smiles had been. The prince had a slight upward tilt to it that favored his right side, dimpling into his cheek. 

Felix found he really liked it when Dimitri spoke and smiled this way.

-x-X-x-

When Felix awoke he became immediately aware of two facts. One, that he was naked, and two, that there was another person pressed next to him, just as bare. His face went red with surprise and he pushed at the other body, and it let out a pained sharp exhale in response.

In moving away he found he was splashing, and the water around him was warm. His eyes adjusted in the dark, catching the light of a tiny fire off to the side. He took note of these surroundings before seeing the man he had saved clutching at his chest, a half foot away from where Felix had pushed him off. Dipping himself neck deep into the water, Felix glared across to the blond man who had settled back down, matching his gaze.

“Where are my clothes,” he demanded, grasping his arms across his chest underneath the water.

“Drying,” came the simple answer and Felix blinked. The man’s voice wasn’t exactly what he had expected from his frame. It was even and mature, a timber that Felix would have assumed to be lower. Glancing back toward the fire his eyes had adjusted enough that he could see two sets of clothing by a weak fire. _The dead tree outside,_ he thought, he would have done pretty much the same.

“I see,” he concluded and the both of them fell into silence, steam rising from the heated water. Felix had had no idea such a place existed here, and the luck that was struck for them to be marooned here. He couldn’t help but feel annoyed at the other man’s gaze seemed unwavering in staring at him however. Irritated, Felix spat, “What.”

The blond man just seemed to measure him with a difficult look. “Are you Adrestian?”

 _Ah._ Felix shook his head, “No.” The other man seemed to slightly relax. Felix, despite working for mercenaries who had been hired by the Empire, he would not call himself Adrestian. It was true that he was taking part in the war between the Empire and the Kingdom and had been at this point for a solid year chasing after a rumor, but he would not call what he was doing being “part of Adrestia”. His goal was more personal than that. It was easy to see how most people would take him working for the Empire as “picking a side”, but really he just wanted to get at the man he felt deep in his bones was responsible for the pain he felt deep in his heart.

That feeling had kept him going. He had chosen to use the Empire as a way of getting close to his target. And if anyone asked him his opinion of the Emperor? He had little faith in her, in her own use of bloodshed to get what she wanted but as a mercenary he could get away with saying things like that. However confusing and idiotic it may seem to people whose only skill in life was to hold a sword. It helped that Felix liked people like that. Less complicated. The Empire would also be the first to send mercenaries out to test the front lines of the deeper parts of Faerghus. It just made sense. Doing things this way would be the shortest way to confirming the rumors of the boar’s renewed presence at the front lines of the Kingdom’s resistance.

But the fact remained that the both of them had clearly been a part of the battle (the blond man’s dark armour had definitely signaled that) it was difficult to say if the two were still enemies despite having helped each other through it. The fact that this man hadn’t killed Felix and instead was helping him was some comfort, but he knew if he revealed he had been on the Adrestian’s payroll that would easily change.

“Who are you,” this time it was Felix’s turn to ask a question.

“No one important,” the tone was dismissive and it only served to frustrate Felix.

“Yeah, bullshit,” he spat and the look that was met with his remark was something dark, something that even as brave as he was made a small fear creep up his neck. “Your armour was custom made for you. It means you’ve got some importance.”

The blond man took steps towards Felix now, and Felix backed up against the edge of the pool, his back pressed to a heavy rock. The blond continued forward until he was a half step away. He was much taller than Felix had expected and towered over him as he spoke again, “And what if I was. What then.”

“Then I don’t fucking know, you’re fucking important? Who are you,” he turned up his nose at the taller man, not allowing himself to be broken by intimidation. He’d killed people this man’s size before and being naked in a hot spring wasn’t going to make him break. Being up close and without the stress of keeping this man from death’s door it was easier to tell the tiredness under the blond’s eye. The river had definitely done poor things to his hair, but Felix had a suspicion he had always looked this frayed and unkempt even before their near drowning. 

“No one,” the man responded after a beat and moved away, giving Felix his space back and he let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. They held silence for the next few hours, Felix ultimately being the first to get out the spring to check on his clothes, shivering as his skin was exposed to the cooler air. It was a quick dash to his clothes and checking on them they were still fairly damp. It would probably be many hours before they would be considered wearable again given the conditions outside. He looked back at the spring and saw the blond man had settled back into the water, but hadn’t taken his eyes off of him. Ugh. The man he had saved was turning out to be a real pain.

He threw another rough looking log that had been laid out beside their clothes onto the tiny fire. The wood was spiked unnaturally at one end and Felix wondered where the man had found it. The tree outside had seemed well intact in his mind’s eye and he hastily made his way back into the water. The air had been so cold and the comforting water was welcome against his skin despite the wrinkles his hands had gained from sitting in it for so long already. It was better than being cold and exposed where the blond man could continue his staring and look at more of him.

Normally he wouldn’t care about another person’s stare, he had plenty of experiences where he was well versed to ignoring the stares of others as he practiced, but time ticked by Felix found himself growing more and more sick of it. “Stop _looking_ at me.”

The blond man turned away at his retort, choosing to stare at the wall instead. This just made Felix angrier. “What’s your problem?” No answer. “I save your life and you barely say a word to me.” Still nothing. Felix stood, splashing his way over. “You have shit for answers and if we’re in this fucking mess together _at least_ until our clothes dry off the least you can do is at least _thank_ me for it.”

It was his turn to intimidate, but it was more difficult considering the blond man seemed dead set on staring at the far wall. “Could you stand to at least look at me when I’m trying to talk to you?”

“You said not to look,” came an equally irritated response. It was sharp and it felt like the other man was holding himself back from something, biting off the end, “So I didn’t.” They met stares evenly, the tension between the two men thick. Felix felt that dangerous sensation from this man again, something he could have only likened to one other person he knew and he took a half step back. And then there was a sharp intake of breath from the taller man and he continued. The dangerous feeling from before settling back under his skin, “Sorry.” A pause. “Thank you for helping me.”

Unsure at first, Felix nodded. “That wasn’t so hard.” Getting the final word in made him feel at least a little better about the whole situation at large before returning to his small rocky nook. “At least answer one thing for me truthfully, as an actual thanks for saving you.” The blond opened his mouth to speak and Felix was quick to cut him off, “And I’m not about to ask you who you are again since you seem to struggle with giving me a basic fucking answer.”

One eye narrowed from across the water, “What do you want to know?”

“Why do you fight?”

The cave went silent.

“To avenge those I’ve lost.”

_Revenge, huh?_

“I see.”

There was another pause until, “What about you?”

Felix thought carefully, his gaze level across the steaming pool. “To kill one man.”

The blond grunted in response, a positive sound. “Do you know where this man is?”

Felix shrugged, “A general idea.”

“I wish you luck in killing him.”

“And you for your revenge.”

The two stopped talking after that, finally settling into a comfortable silence that stretched on into the night. When their clothes were dry enough they pulled on the still slightly damp clothes, pushing themselves close enough to the fire that they could tolerate. Felix felt the loss of his sword deeply, but it hadn’t been anything special. He could obtain a new one easily enough. The next thing he felt was the gnawing feeling in his stomach, feeling a slight embarrassment as he heard it audibly growl from his side of the campfire. He scowled, embarrassed by his weak stomach.

And then he heard another growling sound from across the fire, the larger man’s stomach echoing his own. In spite of himself, it was altogether a little funny and he stifled a snort of a laugh. _I guess even you have weaknesses,_ he thought. As he stared out across the fire he saw a hand covering the blond man’s mouth. _Hiding a reaction?_

Their time together in the cave past that point seemed nonexistent as the hours blended together and the two settled into a small routine. From inside the cave it was impossible to tell what time it was and it became quickly obvious to the both of them that there were three options moving forward. Either best the river and ride it out downstream somehow, climb the cliffside or brave the inner parts of the cavern and hope it emptied out on the other side. Neither of them had the strength to best the river just yet, nor the cliffs or explore deeper into the unknown caves. In a silent consent they would stay here until they had the strength to leave.

It also left time for Felix to try and parse out exactly what kind of man the blond was.

He was skilled, that much was certain. His aim was impeccable from the amount of bats he had hit and killed with rocks for their dinner, and he was attentive at keeping the fire going. He hadn’t said a word to Felix and in part Felix hadn’t spoken to him about any need for potable water or edible food, and yet there had been a portion of both placed at Felix’s side of the fire. The last thing he gleaned was that this man was dangerous. Felix had gone outside of the cave to try and see if fish was an option from the river that had nearly killed them. In doing so he saw the dead tree he had spied before he had lost consciousness. Some of the thick branches had been snapped off, as if a bear had clawed at them with immense power and weight.

None of the debris from the cannons had landed from above during the fight, that had been further upstream. And he knew that the tree had been untouched before they had arrived on the rocky strip. Which only left the conclusion that the blond man had snapped the branches off with his bare hands or some leverage of his body. Which was utterly fucking insane.

It was around the third day of close proximity that Felix decided to strike up conversation again, “Where will you go after this?”

“To continue my mission.” The answer was vague, simple like always.

“Yeah, but _where_ ,” Felix pressed looking for just a scrap of real conversation.

That steely eye narrowed again, “Why?”

“Because I’m fucking bored and you’re the only one here to talk to,” he rolled his eyes, scooting closer again to scraps of the fire that remained. They’d managed to salvage enough of the tree to last them this long, but it would be going out soon.

“Enbarr.”

 _Finally, an actual answer._ “Is what you’re looking for in Enbarr?”

“I also have someone I want to kill.” The answer was dark and full of promise, and it made Felix let out a sound of curiosity, but he didn’t press much further on the “who” portion of it.

“Were you on your way to Enbarr when the fight broke out?” he chanced the question and was deadlocked yet again for a response. He sighed. “Look I don’t give a flying fuck what side of this stupid war you’re on,” Felix grumbled, sick to death again of the one sided conversation, “But like I said you’re the only one here and would it kill you to have a conversation that isn’t nearly all one word answers?”

The blond man let out a heavy breath, his eye looking past Felix, “You’re not easy to talk to.”

That just made him more irritated, “Speak for yourself!”

“You don’t understand,” the words that came from the blond man were sharp, tinted rough and with a cold anger, “How agonizing it is to be stuck with you here right now.” The black haired man had had enough and stood, easily stepping over the meager fire to grasp the man by the front of his black woolen shirt.

“You know, you talk a lot of shit for someone who barely fucking says anything,” he snarled and his words were met with a dead eyed stare back at him. Just when they took one step forward the two men took two steps back. Felix didn’t have his hands on the bigger man for long as his wrist was grabbed where he held the blond’s shirt and squeezed much too tightly. The pain made him let go and the blond stood, yanking Felix forward and clamping the smaller man’s other arm down with his free hand. Felix cursed at the pressure as the other leaned down next to him.

“You. Have. No. Right.” The words were low in Felix’s ear and he swallowed.

“Let go of me.” His words were icy in response.

“You don’t _understand_ ,” the word was likened to a snarl and the phrase more feral in design.

“Let GO of me.” He stamped his foot down on the blond’s, making him cry out in surprise and release Felix’s arm, but his wrist was still caught. However crafty he was, the fact that the larger man still had his wrist was a disadvantage to Felix, and the blond forced him down to the ground. The other man covered his back with his frame easily, and the weight kept him pinned to the ground, his arm having been forced behind his back as his face was pushed into the smooth, rocky floor.

“You don’t understand,” the blond said it again, quieter, as if his mind was far away and not here as his body pressed Felix’s into the floor.

“Then say something and help me understand,” Felix gritted out. He knew there wasn’t much he could do in this position. His hips, while they could give him some leverage, wouldn’t free his arm, and his legs were pinned. He’d gotten too reckless and too close and now he was paying for it.

“I...you...” the answer came falteringly, as if no one had asked him that question before. “You’re so much like someone I know.” Felix rolled his eyes, _oh great._ “Someone who’s dead and gone. As if someone sent you here to torment me all over again.”

“Well I’m not,” Felix retorted, “The dead are dead and I’m not a damn ghost. If I wanted to truly torment you I’d have let you die on the riverbank.” There was a pause and for a moment Felix had the feeling that the man above him was going to keep him here or crush him to death. Eventually, the bigger man broke.

“...fair enough.” The blond’s shoulders slumped and he released Felix who scrambled back to his feet and stepped back over the fire, now a pile of embers. He saw the man across from him run a hand over his face, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “...what I did was uncalled for. I apologize.” Felix moved to the other side of the cave, placing his back against the wall. He didn’t offer him forgiveness and instead chose to ignore him. That seemed enough for the both of them and he cave fell back into silence.

-x-X-x-

The next day they committed to leaving. There wasn’t any more fire to conjure and no one was going to come looking for them. They hadn’t heard anyone for the few days they’d spent holed up in the hot spring cave. Standing outside the cave mouth they considered their options again: The river was a terrible idea, and climbing the gorge was looking more and more promising. Felix cast a glance at the other man, his eyes combing over the tightly corded muscles in his arms and chest figured that he could probably climb the wall if he really set his mind to it. The days spent recuperating had returned most of their strength. This plan in the context of Felix himself however? Not as likely.

Which meant the caves were his next best option.

“Well it’s been...something,” Felix said awkwardly, and if he didn’t leave now he would just end up staring at the cliffs with a frustrated look on his face, not getting anywhere. He’d had plenty of chances to leave on his own during his time spent in the cave, but it hadn’t been until today he’d felt well enough to attempt leaving and possibly have to protect himself outside of the blond stranger.

The other man just stared at him with a complicated expression, with that same far off look of not exactly looking at Felix, but just past him. “...yes.”

He didn’t bid the other man goodbye as he turned to leave, but stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Pushing it off he glared at the blond man. “What.”

“I can get you to the top.” Felix was left in disbelief. Was he seriously offering? He glanced at the cliffs, and how tall they were. If he slipped or his strength gave out and they both fell, they’d most certainly die.

“Thanks but no thanks,” he said flatly, “I’ll take my chances with any murderous creatures in the cave.”

“I mean it, let me.” He was being so pushy now, and after all that time spent arguing and giving Felix the silent treatment when they weren’t arguing. “To apologize.” The black haired man would have frowned even deeper if it were possible and thought about it again. There was one thing he could use to make this guy back off and then he’d be on his way into mysterious cave tunnels.

Felix crossed his arms over his chest. “One condition.”

Another complicated look, followed by a, “...what is it.”

“I want your name, something to call you.” The question that had been left unanswered the entire stay and had sparked anger from the blond on more than one occasion. The condition wouldn’t be met, the blond would have nothing to guilt Felix and he would be on his way, never to see this man ever, ever again. Soon.

“Dima.”

“What?”

“You can call me Dima.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some early entry politics, war updates and Caspar whom I adore.
> 
> As always, love y'all, enjoy!
> 
> -Dev

Felix was sure he was going to die.

He didn’t even understand why he had agreed to Dima’s request at this point, it was insane. The smaller man had thought he had been so smart with his condition. The man hadn’t even given him any inclination he would give him a name, much less else. Getting any information in general was like pulling teeth, and the blond barely questioned him about anything of his own volition other than to ask if he was Adrestian. Which left Felix agreeing, reluctantly, to letting him carry him up the cliffside.

He’d been shocked to actually get a name. And it was better than calling him “Blondie” or “oaf” or something of the sort. Not that Felix wasn’t above such things. But it had led to the place where he now found himself, grasping at the front of Dima’s dark shirt for dear life. The reliable leather that had kept his sword sheath in place had been repurposed to strapping themselves together. It was temporary, the other had tested the holds before the climb and deemed them to be safe.

It was true this would be the fastest and most assured way out of here. Maybe it was the fact that Felix knew the man had broken a tree with just his bare hands or the desire to leave was surmounting the fear of death. Either way, now halfway up the cliff he was swearing up and down to the Goddess that he was most certainly going to die.

His eyes were squeezed tight, and he clung with a vice like grip. His life depended on it. “Can you go any faster,” the antagonistic words slipped out and he was met with a gumble from the man carrying him.

“Fast as...I can go,” came the labored reply.

The man was a fucking monster. It was the only thing that made sense as Dima pulled them over the top of the last set of rocks, pressing himself against the ground in front of the trees at the top as Felix undid the belts that had lashed them together and stood, readjusting them back onto his own body. Leaning down he offered a hand to the other man. Dima’s eye looked at the hand, almost as if he was confused at it’s meaning, but took it and stood, not bothering to dust himself off.

He wasn’t ungrateful. The blond had done what he’d said and gotten them to the top. “Thanks,” he said and the faraway look was cast on him again.

“Hm,” came the response and Felix took that as his chance to leave.

“Good luck, and if we manage to cross swords later on, know I won’t go easy on you just because of this,” he had to make it apparent that there would be no favoritism, and the tired eye followed him as he walked back out into the forest.

“Same.” Good to know the feeling was mutual.

It wasn’t long before Felix disappeared into the trees and Dima was long gone behind him and Felix was positive he’d never see the other man again.

-x-X-x-

First things first was finding his way back to the site of the battle. There wasn’t much he could do on his own, but if he got there he could at least pilfer a sword or at least a knife off of a corpse. With a weapon he was much more equipped to find more substantial food. First he’d need to travel further downstream, there was a bridge that connected the two halves. The walk took easily a couple hours and by the time the bridge came into sight he narrowed his eyes at a familiar banner waving as horse drawn wagons clattered across the stone.

The standard was deep crimson and sported a delicately detailed twin-headed golden eagle across it. The Empire was here. Despite working for them it wasn’t as if Felix  _ enjoyed _ their company. A gaggle of pretentious nobility that made Felix want to throw up. If he saw them it meant they had probably seen him, and it making his presence known wouldn’t necessarily spark a fight. He was officially a hired sword by Adrestia’s standards, and as it was presently he was unarmed.

He stayed where he was, and it wasn’t long before his thoughts were confirmed, a blade pressed to his back as he lifted his hands above his head. He had let the man approach, knowing he wouldn’t be run through without an explanation. “Easy,” he said, “I’m a part of the mercenaries you sent from Fort Merceus.” The scout pawed at his clothes, and Felix sighed, “I’m not armed.”

Eventually the scout reached that conclusion and put his sword away. “You’re near the contingency led by the Imperial Prime Minister Ferdinand von Aegir.” Felix had to fight the urge to pull a face. The man was utterly insufferable compared to most.

“I’ll deliver my report to him,” he said evenly and the scout skulked ahead of him, Felix followed.

The procession was finishing their trek across the bridge. Felix easily counted over a hundred soldiers, all dressed in the familiar metals of Empire soldiers. Over the years, the Western half of the Kingdom had been annexed into the Empire a year after the prince’s death and became a dukedom under a Kingdom traitor. Cornelia. The Empire had held onto the territory for years after that, slowly inching more and more land from the Eastern Kingdom Lords. Felix had fought in many battles against the Empire from when he still served under his father, but he hadn’t personally shown his face to any of them, his face covered by a helmet sporting regalia of the Frauldarius family. After that any battles he would have faced Empire soldiers would have been under the Alliance banner, and if people saw his face he was assumed to be under that designation. It would be more difficult to go unknown the closer he got to his goal, but he'd made his peace with that.

The presence of the Prime Minister himself could only mean a few things. That the Empire was tired of relying on Cornelia leading the war effort to annex the rest of the Kingdom from the Eastern Lords or they were planning for a much larger assault once that happened. Felix, having spent his time in Alliance territory, knew that it wasn’t altogether unlikely for the Empire to continue their march eastward once the Kingdom’s sparse resistance was out of the way. The Empire could have wiped the resistance out, but Felix knew the combination of his father and the Margrave Gautier was unmatched. Rumors had it they had been receiving aid from the head of the Alliance, Claude von Reigan himself. Felix couldn’t speak to any truth in that particular rumor, but knew his father would be a fool to turn down help from the Master Tactician himself if it was offered.

The scout weaved them through the soldiers to the front, and sitting upon a dappled grey mare was the Prime Minister himself, accompanied by what looked to be the Minister of Military Affairs, Caspar von Bergliez, on a smaller brown stallion to his left. Felix was more acquainted with Caspar and held a high opinion of the man. The two had clashed on the field before in Felix’s early mercenary days on the side of the Alliance. They were skirmishes from when the Empire had tried to push a front past the Great Bridge of Myrddin, and most times before a bout could be decided one side or the other had ordered a retreat, leaving the two in a stalemate. The Bridge remained in Empire territory as a result. He was unmatched for sheer force of will and commanded a presence all his own on the battlefield. Caspar was known for losing his head a little bit, but with Ferdinand here the two made an excellent military pair. Somewhere in the back of his mind Felix felt a stab of worry and pushed it aside.

“Prime Minister, a report,” the scout gestured to Felix’s presence. He must have seemed unrecognizable with his hair down. The careful braiding he normally put into keeping his hair out of his way had been thoroughly fucked over by the river adventure and he’d taken to pushing half of it behind his ear. Ferdinand looked down at him from atop his horse and nodded, allowing him to speak.

“Reporting from the Red Mercenary Group sent to Galatean lands from Fort Merceus, en route to Fhirdiad,” Felix began, and Ferdinand’s eyebrows lifted.

“I had heard the entire company was wiped out by a surprise attack,” he stated and Felix wasn’t surprised, the cannonfire had decimated his half of the split company and he could only imagine what the other half had to deal with. His teeth grit at his missed chance to see if the mad boar king had actually been among the combatants. Damn Reigan if he was behind such a trick.

“I’m still alive,” he said flatly. “But if you’ve already heard and confirmed their demise my report isn’t worth much anymore.”

“No, thank you for your report. I am glad to see someone is alive,” Ferdinand’s words were gracious and he gestured to this army, “Please, acquaint yourself with my soldiers. We’ll discuss further matters once we’ve reached our destination for today’s travel. I’ll send someone for you, in the meanwhile please introduce yourself to your new commander on the bay near the supply wagons.”

He was excused as the long ginger haired man turned to tuck into a conversation with the Minister next to him. He’d probably find Caspar later, drinking among the men and made a mental note to avoid them. As he moved toward the back of the contingency the thought did cross his mind that if the war hadn’t broken out when it did they probably would have attended the old Garreg Mach Officer’s Academy together.

The Church had been overwhelmed by the Empire early in the war, about three years past the prince’s death and while the Kingdom had tried to provide support, it was fighting a war on two fronts. One against continued insurrection from the West and another from Sreng in the north. Felix remembered it had happened shortly after his birthday, he had been 18 at the time. A man fully grown according to high society.

He found the commander and introduced himself, stating that the Prime Minister had ordered him here and would be joining the regiment. He was given some basic instructions, but mainly that he would join the march until they paused for the day and set camp. There he would be given a weapon, confirm his skill and they would list him as a member of the standing army. His reputation hadn’t stretched much further past Alliance territory, but he knew there'd be a conversation about it one way or another.

The march was long and boring. Nothing different from any other march. He’d gotten looks from a few of the other soldiers. Made sense considering he looked completely different from the rest of the fighters. Most carried swords, a few lances and axes. The cavalry stayed mixed throughout the company. There didn’t appear to be any mounted sky units from what Felix picked up, that would be a specialized force and those roles were rarer in Empire lands.

By the time they broke for camp dusk had settled in. He settled his affairs with the quartermaster, who had heard of him in some respect. “Felix...no surname?” A shake of his head. “I’m surprised a man of your caliber signed on.” The man looked to be Alliance, probably drafted from a border town near Hrym territories.

“The money’s good enough,” he stated and it was an easy way to end the conversation. No one liked talking about money and especially not the quartermaster. He let him have his pick of the swords though and Felix liked him well enough for that courtesy. There weren’t too many bad blades to pick from and he managed to find one with a weight he liked.

He was assigned a tent with a slew of other soldiers, and on his way to set up his bedroll for the night he was caught by none other than Caspar von Bergliez himself. The striking color of his hair moved into Felix’s view as an arm was slung over his shoulders. “Hey there!” his voice was upbeat and chipper and Felix wanted to slink away immediately, “Ferdinand- I mean the Prime Minister didn’t give me much chance to talk to you earlier but you’ve got some time now, right?”

Felix’s hands were full of his things and his brow furrowed. “Not really.”

“Woah, woah, I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he removed his arm, “It’s just that we’ve never been on the same side before, and I wanna get to know you more.”

“Not interested,” he tried to brush off Caspar as he continued walking toward his assigned tent, but the blue haired man was insistent.

“Come on, you’re not the least bit curious about me?”

“Nope.” He lifted the flap of the tent, going inside to arrange his things. When he had spent about as much time as he thought would be enough to leave the coast clear for Felix to disappear, he left only to be greeted again by Caspar who was still waiting outside.

“Great you’re done,” he said, just as peppy as before.

“If I go and talk with you, then will you leave me be?” Felix knew this was a losing battle, better to let Bergliez settle into a drink, get distracted and leave him to quietly slip away unnoticed.

“You know it,” Caspar clapped him in the back, pushing Felix forward with the weight of it and the two walked towards the center of the camp. Drinks were being passed around in small tin cups, barely passable stuff to swallow if you asked Felix, but it  _ was _ better than nothing. Glancing around the mood was cheery and it appeared to him that this particular regimen probably had a lot more new draftees. The direction they had come from had been mostly occupied or neutral territory so it was unlikely the company had seen any action upon arriving across the border.

“Have you had any trouble on the march so far?” Felix held out a tin cup as some of the soldiers happily made space for himself and the Minister.

Caspar tipped a crudely fashioned bottle, pouring a dark amber liquid into the cup, filling it to near spilling. “Nah. It’s all occupied territory from Magded to the edge of Galatea, not even a whisper from the old church. Rumor’s going around it’s occupied by a pretty nasty group of bandits though, but we didn’t see anything passing through.”

Garreg Mach had stood the pillar of religion and sanctuary in the realm for years. Since the Kingdom had lost its foothold in the north and with pressure from Adrestia in the South, the church had tried to take a neutral stance between the powers. But the Empire had had no intention of letting that stand. The assault in the central church had wounded the Kingdom deeply, who could not send much aid at the time and the monastery had been abandoned as a result.

Felix took a tiny sip, his face screwing up at the taste. Caspar took some for himself before passing the bottle off, downing about half in one go without many problems. Then he got right to the matter, “So, the quartermaster confirmed with me that you’re the Wolf. I mean I knew but, damn? And now we’re allies? What are the chances.” Felix hummed in response. Caspar continued, “So, what’s the deal. Why stop doing work for the Alliance and come over here?”

That had to be the question on most peoples’ minds. Felix had built his reputation as an Alliance mercenary, for him to work for the Empire it must have come out of left field. He took a second, but responded simply, gritting through another awful gulp of the alcohol, “Some of the best fighters come from the Kingdom, I want to test my blade against strong opponents.”  
  
Caspar seemed happy enough with the answer from what he knew of Felix. “Anyone in particular you’re looking to fight?”

Felix went serious, and Caspar leaned in. “Are the rumors true about the man who fights like a crazed boar?”    
  
At that Caspar scratched at the back of his head, finishing his drink. “Hard to say. They say all people who come into contact with him are all killed and pretty viciously at that. He’s not exactly the kindest killer.” Someone passed the bottle back and he tipped more liquid into his cup, leaning over to top off Felix’s much to the pained look the black haired man gave him. “There aren’t really accurate descriptions of what he looks like. Most folk who come back after battles he’s been in are pretty traumatized afterward.”

“That’s really all I’ve heard,” Felix said and waited until Caspar was pouring someone else a drink before trading his cup easily with the tipsy soldier sitting next to him who had already finished his drink while he wasn’t looking.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Caspar grinned at the person to their left and in turning back again refilled Felix’s cup. Felix sighed as the blue haired man continued, “Though a scrap of the report we got back did say he was actually at the battle you were in. You didn’t see him?”

Felix’s hand tightened around the metal cup, “No.”

“Bummer,” Caspar said with a shrug, “I wanna face him myself, see how tough he actually is! They say he’s as big as two men, and has the strength of three. I wonder what kind of man he’s like.”

“Are you seriously contemplating that  _ thing _ as a person?” The words came out fanged, dripping with poison. It was enough to tip off Caspar that this guy meant a little bit more to Felix than he was letting on.

“You must really hate this guy,” the warrior said, a frown playing at the corners of his lips. “You actually think he’s the dead prince?”

“Probably,” Felix downed the bitter liquid in his cup in one go, coughing at the taste afterwards.

“What’d he do to you?” The cups were filled again.

“None of your business.”

“Come on, we’re all on the same side now! We’ll be basically brothers, fighting alongside each other soon. Unless Ferdinand sends you somewhere else I guess, but I’m not betting on it!”

“No.”

“Did the royals owe you money?”

“No.” He finished his cup again.

“Kill someone you cared about?”

“ _ No. _ ” The rejection was closer to the truth than he cared to admit.

Caspar sighed. “You know you’re not very friendly, but your own rumors say that time and time again. I’m sure you’ll warm up to the group just fine.” He grinned, unbothered by Felix’s passiveness and slung an arm over his shoulders in a rough movement. The liquid still in Caspar’s cup sloshed out in a messy spray.

From the other side of the camp shouts could be heard and Caspar looked over, an irritated sigh passing from his lips. “Wait here, looks like there’s a fight breaking out. Gotta go take care of business.” Caspar gave his cup to Felix and stood up, marching off to where the squabble was located. The shouts became enhanced as soon as the blue haired man was in the mix and the fight seemed to only escalate. Felix took this as a brief respite and passed the cups off, leaving the sitting area back to his tent.   
  
The alcohol made his mind a little fuzzy, but it helped him drop off into the abyss of sleep. 

-x-X-x-

Lessons with Dimitri through the spring to early summer had made them less boring than they would’ve been if Felix had been doing them alone at the Frauldarius estate. The routine they’d developed of a teatime walk after sword practice being the highlight of them. Teatime was when Dimitri seemed the most open, as there was limited supervision. Also due to the fact that Glenn often would visit and join them from time to time. Any extra time Felix got with his brother was welcome in his opinion.

After a couple months Felix had found himself growing attached to the prince, he was intelligent and kind. Today instead of their usual walk Felix had requested that he lead the walk today and Dimitri, expressing curiosity, agreed.

“Where are we going?” he asked and Felix smiled, lifting a finger to his lips. A secret.

Dimitri reigned in his curiosity, trading a smile back and nodded.  _ Very well. _ He took them in a roundabout way, and it felt refreshing and different. The conversation led them down a brief trail of their history lessons earlier, speaking briefly of Loog and Kyphon. They felt very similarly on many topics so it was easy for Felix to feel comfortable speaking with the prince. Getting near to the end of their walk Felix took them in a direction that Dimitri knew from familiarity, but wasn’t sure why he was taking them in the direction of the gardens. They were a small area on the edge of the palace grounds.   
  
Checking to make sure no one was watching Felix gestured to a place of wall behind some of the pricklier decorative bushes. Dimitri followed. “Will you help with this.” A heavy looking stone was on the ground in front of the way. With Dimitri’s help they pushed it out of the way and a small underground area was uncovered. The prince seemed unsure and Felix reached out a hand. “It’s a little dark, but I can help lead you there.”

When Dimitri took his hand it was warm.   
  
Felix led him down and once they were beneath the earth he explained, “Sylvain said this is one of the few escape routes for the Blaiddyd family, but no one really uses this one anymore. There’s a big area under that’s our secret hideout. We do practice fights there and pretty much just hang out when we don’t want anyone to find us.”   
  
Felix held a hand at the edge of the wall. It was pitch black in the tunnel and the feeling of Dimitri’s hand kept them anchored together. He wouldn’t openly admit that he had to hold Sylvain or Ingrid’s hand whenever they came down here as the darkness did still frighten him. He didn’t want to seem weak in front of them, but they allowed him the comfort. Felix liked to think that Sylvain also needed it too. He squeezed Dimitri’s hand, trying to show the same comfort that Sylvain would afford him in the safety of complete darkness, and he felt the prince squeeze back.   
  
As they passed into the open area magic ignited in sparks and small movement activated lanterns lit the area. There were small things that had been taken down here, anything that the children could have carried, but other than that the earthen room was bare. Practice weapons were leaned up against the wall, there was a path that led further into the dark and off to the side there were some blankets thrown down with pillows. Books littered one corner of the floor nearby.   
  
“This is our secret hideout,” Felix said proudly. “Next time we’re all together we can practice down here.”

Dimitri looked around and just when Felix was wondering if he should have thought again before bringing him down here he picked up two of the weapons against the wall. A sword and a lance. Turning, he smiled and tossed the sword at Felix who caught it, grinning. “That sounds like a splendid idea. Up for a match?”   
  
The sound of wood clattering faded after a few bouts with both boys falling back onto the small pile of blankets and cushions, breathing heavily side by side. Something Dimitri said made Felix’s head fall back in a laugh, eyes closed. On the way back out of the hideout, Felix felt his hand being taken without prompting, not thinking anything of it, and squeezed back.

-x-X-x-

Dimitri was yelling at him.   
  
“Tear them limb from limb! Do NOT let a single one of them escape us!” Felix was staring, shell shocked and his mouth partially open as he heaved in the air. His clothes and sword were coated in blood. He had been on autopilot until the moment prior he had looked ahead to his prince. What he saw shook him to his core, he froze.

“Did you not HEAR me Felix?”   
  
“Dimitri-”   


Dimitri heaved his lance again, knocking away the weapon of another soldier who came at him. His hand grasped at the soldier’s helmet, and the sickening crunch that came after made the bile rise in Felix’s throat.    


“KILL THEM, FELIX.”

He woke up in a cold sweat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get some boys getting closer in this chapter and Felix realizing he isn't as good at hiding things as he thought.
> 
> Thanks for continuing to read! Enjoy~

Rolling out of bed Felix went fetch some water, his mouth had gone dry and he couldn’t remember entirely what he had dreamed but knew it had been a nightmare. Vague pictures of his dream were spotty, he remembered his hand being held but he also remembered blood and how it stuck to him like a disease. And the boar called for more.

He must have woken in the middle of the night. There wasn’t much going on save for those on watch, running in shifts and he made sure to stay out of their way. Once he had his water, he felt an ease wash over him as the cool liquid slipped down his throat. Dodging out of camp had been easier than he thought, and whenever nightmares struck a walk was typically the only thing that could get his mind off it. The road they traveled was the one that would take them north to Fhirdiad, and thus it followed closely to the river. In the Frauldarius dukedom there were two rivers that met in the middle of the territory and one of these had been close to the estate. Whenever he had felt frustrated or annoyed he always found himself calmed by watching the water float by, unimpeded by anything.  
  
Weaving his way, eventually Felix found the river. Following the path to the water by moonlight hadn’t been too difficult. This part of the river had evened back out into a steady stream that was ground level, unlike the gorge that had nearly claimed his life and that of Dima’s a few days ago. He found a seat on a dry rock by the riverside, pressing his hands together to quell their shaking and he let his mind wander. There were plenty of larger rocks here, some much taller than others, but the one Felix had chosen on this side of the river was low to the ground, close enough to the water itself that he could see his reflection.  
  
Any fight would bring him face to face with his enemy. With the boar. He’d missed his chance to confirm for himself whether or not the commander of the last fight had been his target, but he wouldn’t fail the next time. He had his mission. His reflection wobbled in the water as a stone splashed into the water and Felix jerked back in surprise.

He looked up and saw a figure sitting upon one of the larger rocks. Part of his body covered the moon from this angle but Felix knew who it was from the shape. The blond hair that covered the half of his face was slightly parted and the man was hunched over, looking down. He was wearing a heavy cloak now, stained dark blue with a mantle of white and black fur atop it. He didn’t appear to be wearing any heavy armor, but Felix could just barely pick out the glimmer of steel to his side.  
  
“You again.” Felix glared up at Dima.

“Indeed,” he said and threw another rock at the water, rippling Felix’s reflection beyond recognition.

Felix resettled onto the rock. Dima had that familiar far off expression on his face and he called up as another rock came splashing into the river. “I thought you were heading to Enbarr.”  
  
“I should be,” came the bitter words, and Felix had to wonder what was keeping him.  
  
“Well, what’s keeping you?”  
  
Dima’s expression grew more serious and difficult to read. “I have a few things to take care of before I can set out for Enbarr. It has...been a long time since I’ve been around these parts.” Felix was surprised at how _talkative_ the man was being this time around. He decided this was a good thing and he wasn’t insufferable to speak to. Unlike Caspar he didn’t ask too many questions.  
  
“Ah, I see,” Felix rubbed at his fingers. His hands had stopped their shaking. He realized how he had instantly calmed down from his earlier thoughts from the shock of the rock, and the slight familiarity of Dima’s presence even if it hadn’t been the blond’s intention to help. It was only really starting to settle in just how alone he had been the past five years.  
  
“Still hunting your man?” Dima’s voice carried steady on the wind.  
  
“Yes.” Felix’s expression darkened.  
  
“Any progress?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Hm.” Another splash of a rock. He stood then and picked up what Felix discovered to be a lance, it looked to be simply fashioned so it was impossible to tell if it was a standard issue of any army. Given from what Felix knew of the blond man so far, it seemed likely he was just in the same position as Felix, a mercenary fighting for a side but with a bigger goal in mind. He watched Dima move off of the rock and walk towards him, sitting opposite from the river, but closer that they didn’t have to talk so loud to converse.

“What he did must have really hurt you.”   
  
Felix had to laugh, a pitying sound leaving him. Now this was a twist. Mr. Talkative trying to comfort him? “You have no idea.”  
  
“I can relate,” Dima palmed the shaft of his lance, his eye following the glint of the spearhead.  
  
“I don’t know about that,” Felix said, frowning, “I have no idea about you at all.”  
  
“...what would you like to know?” Was that answer serious? And he was seriously eating his earlier thoughts about Dima not asking too many questions of him.  
  
“Are you actually going to answer?”  
  
“If I can. I have no idea if you’re closely associated with her.” _Her? Ah, a woman._ Felix was getting a much different impression of Dima now. He was chasing after a woman for revenge?  
  
“Alright. We can trade. I’ll answer something if you also answer.” There came a sound of agreement at that. “Ok. Um,” Felix crossed his arms, deep in thought, “Is this woman the person you’re looking for in Enbarr?”  
  
“Yes. May I sit next to you?” The question was strange but having spent nearly four days with this man, and part of which knew he could be overpowered easily. He didn’t know Dima’s full intentions, and his first thought was that he should say no.  
  
“Sure,” he said instead and Dima crossed the river to his rock, taking a seat next to Felix to stare into the river. Felix noticed that the blond was avoiding his eyes, choosing instead to stare into the water, scooping up another handful of rocks to throw. When the other man had settled it had been directly next to him and he felt the brush of the fur mantle against his shoulder. Felix scooted slightly to the side to give them a little more space. “Why are you out here right now?”  
  
“I couldn’t sleep,” Dima said and tossed another rock into the river, he held out his hand, offering some to Felix. “How about you?”  
  
“Same,” he took a few rocks, tossing them in tandem with the blond man. “Are you traveling by yourself?”  
  
“Mm…” Dima seemed to be thinking about how to respond, “For now, yes.”  
  
“Who do I remind you of?” Felix thought he may as well ask.  
  
Dima looked at him this time, really looked at him and Felix felt something settle low in his chest, a feeling he couldn’t place. The man’s stare was intense. “Someone who was very precious to me.”  
  
“Do you know how they died?” Felix couldn’t help but follow up, just to confirm his thoughts and had broken the exchange rule, but Dima didn’t call him out on it.  
  
“No.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
A silence stretched after that. It was awkward talking about anyone who was dead. He palmed the flat rock he had been saving and with a flick of his wrist watched it skip, once, twice, ploop. A pretty bad toss. He grumbled at the failure and he heard a low chuckle from the man next to him. Similar to the one he’d heard back in the cave. It… No, Felix put that thought away and sat back down.  
  
“Why couldn’t you sleep?” Dima was the one to spark the conversation back up.  
  
“Bad dreams.”  
  
“Nightmares?” the blond asked.  
  
“...yeah.” Felix wasn’t sure why he was letting this man talk to him so easily. The conversation just seemed to flow out. His presence, despite their initial meeting, wasn’t discomforting. Maybe it was because he respected the man’s strength. That had to be it. He hadn’t spoken this freely with anyone since before leaving the Kingdom. It made him miss home, a hurt that struck deep in his chest. “I had a dream about the man I want to kill. I don’t think I succeeded in killing him, in my dream. But it’s hard to remember now.”  
  
The dream’s snippets came back to him and he squeezed his eyes shut. A tumultuous bundle of emotions were settling sickly now in his stomach, mixing with the homesickness. He was so close to Frauldarius territory, and he knew his father was still fighting. At least, he was sure he was. Word was hard to come by on that end, and the Eastern Kingdom lords were as secretive as possible. They were a guerrilla force at this point. If their position was ever made rumor or known, it would spell their deaths.  
  
“Mm…” the sound came low and unsure from the larger man next to him and he shifted. Felix opened his eyes, the other man had started to move closer for a moment before backtracking and returning to his previous spot. “Take my hand?” the words came out slow and full of uncertainty, then he offered his hand to Felix.  
  
Felix barked a laugh, one of nervousness. Was he serious? He was a grown man. They didn’t need to hold hands like schoolboys. “No thanks,” he said and held his own hands together, almost protectively.  
  
Dima took his hand back. “The person who was precious to me, holding his hand always made me feel more secure in whatever I needed to do.” It was a piece of information that was much more personal and deeper than Felix expected and he felt a little bad for turning down the offer. Dima had the far off look again and was staring down the river.  
  
“He sounds like someone that was really good for you.” It was still an awkward conversation. Felix wasn’t exactly the best at feelings or feeling talk. He avoided women and men alike who expressed interest in him, favoring only the art of the blade for many, many years despite Sylvain’s attempts to set him up over the years.  
  
“I suppose,” The answer came off key considering how Dima had been talking about him earlier. He had scooped up another rock and threw it into the river, much more violently than the previous times.  
  
“Uh,” Felix stared at him, “Is something...wrong.”  
  
Dima blinked, seeming to remember himself and shook his head, “It’s nothing.” _Ok, weird._ “I should go.” 

“Oh. Sure,” Felix was slow to answer, and pushed out the feeling of disappointment. Why was he feeling disappointed? Again, it was happenstance that they would meet again but perhaps they were just traveling in the same direction. Regardless, his earlier feelings of loneliness had to have been the cause for the feeling. He was just glad for some company that wasn’t someone who knew him.  
  
He watched as Dima picked up his lance and started to walk, Felix was quick to speak up, “Not that way.” Dima turned to look at him quizzically. “I mean. If you go that way, you’ll run into an Empire encampment.” Felix watched him turn away, back in the direction that he had told him to stop and Felix stood. Just as he was about to insist again Dima answered.  
  
“I see,” the words sounded forced, it was hard to see the blond’s expression when he was turned away, but after a moment Felix saw his shoulders slump and turn back to him, walking back up to the rock they had been sitting on. They were now standing inches apart and it was always a little intimidating (and irritating) at how large the other man was. Both in height and width. Dima seemed to study his face and Felix hated the rise in temperature he could feel as redness colored his cheeks.  
  
“What?” it came out spiteful and he took a step back out of embarrassment, slipping as his foot met air.  
  
His arms waved as he reached out for a grip on anything, and cut off a shout as a strong hand caught his arm and pulled him in, another closing securely against his back. Felix’s face was pushed into coarse fur, his body easily covered by the blond’s as his face darkened a deeper shade of red. He stayed there for a moment, his mind trying calm after nearly falling before his hand pressed against the other man’s chest and pushed him off.  
  
“Th...um, thank you,” he cleared his throat, trying to seem nonchalant as Dima still held onto his arm. He looked back at him, willing his expression to not give away his flustered emotions. It did. “You can let go, I’m fine.”  
  
The blond’s blue eye followed his movements and after another pause he let his hand slide away from Felix’s arm, their fingers brushing as he did. Felix was quick to walk past Dima in that moment, not caring how their arms bumped into each other. He didn’t say goodbye just hurried off into the trees back into the direction of camp. He pressed his hands to his face, willing the heat to lighten. It was just an accident, and he’d been helped. This was a perfectly natural emotion to be feeling, and also the embarrassment of needing that help.  
  
He didn’t fall back asleep in his tent for a long while, his mind unable to stop thinking about the man by the river with the far off look in his eye.  
  
  


-x-X-x-

The march continued after the camp packed up in the morning, another boring slog to which they managed to cover a substantial amount of land before having to rest again. Within the next couple of days they would be outside the gates of Fhirdiad. Those days too passed by quickly, Felix trying not to reminisce at the familiar scenery and failing. When he tried to place his thoughts elsewhere he thought back to Dima. He wondered how he was doing.  
  
Before the near unfortunate slip it had been comfortable and that’s what Felix’s mind latched onto. It hadn’t been awkward or forced like the last few nights of Caspar catching him before he could slip away back into his tent and feign sleep or eat his meals away from the others. The blue haired man seemed intent on sticking to his side throughout the march. He managed to get little bits of info out of Felix, and it was getting to the point where he wasn’t starting to _completely_ dislike having Caspar around.  
  
Most of his thoughts about the blond honestly brought him back to the nighttime rendezvous. He had been looking at him closer than he had thought, and Felix couldn’t help a stray thought that he was actually quite handsome. That and if he got more sleep he’d be a real hit among women. The fact that they had both been driven to the river due to nightmares definitely answered Felix’s budding question about why the other man looked so tired all the time. He probably didn’t get much sleep in general.  
  
Caspar let it slip that they’d be meeting up with another company just outside of Fhirdiad on the way, not that it meant much to Felix. If anything it was probably just Ferdinand taking control of a larger retinue of troops. When the Fhirdian capital came into view over the horizon after their days of travel, Felix felt a pang of nostalgia deep in his chest. It had easily been ten years since he’d last stepped foot inside the castle let alone. The familiar halls were probably redecorated in red at this point, and any faint trace of blue and silver done over in red and black.  
  
Better not to think of it. He didn’t regret anything. He steeled himself back to watching the men march in front of him. It would soon be dusk again, but the Prime Minister’s orders had been passed along that their march would be harder today, forced until they met their destination. As such it was nearing midnight by the time they broke to camp and all of the other soldiers were tired and irritable in setting up their tents.  
  
When Felix was expecting Caspar to come and find him again today he was surprised to find that he hadn’t. His night went in the same manner, quiet and without anyone bothering him. Except this in itself began to bother him. But Felix supposed he should count his blessings and take it as a quiet night afforded to him to relax without the annoying company of von Bergliez. His sleep was dreamless and he didn’t find much rest.  
  
The next morning he was called for by an officer who attended to the Prime Minister himself. Felix squinted but knew that his skill he supposed wasn’t unknown at this point. People knew who he was around camp. So it wasn’t surprising if von Aegir wanted to take advantage of his talents and Felix would comply, knowing that currying favor with the man would give him leverage to be on the front lines in the next fight against the rumored boar king. That’s what this was all for.  
  
At least the officer was kind enough to let him finish his breakfast. After passing his dishes off he straightened and made sure all of his things were on him, leather armor, sword, bags. He carried his sword typically wherever he went, and any of his personal affairs (at least those that he didn’t care much about in case they were stolen, and in shared camps, your things would be stolen if you weren’t careful) he kept on his person. Felix knew meeting with high command meant looking presentable.  
  
He followed the officer past the other tents, and felt the other soldiers’ eyes on him. He paid them little mind as the officer gestured to the large red and black tent they stopped in front of. “He’ll see you now.” Felix nodded and pushed back the tent flap, seeing a table that had been set up in the middle of the room. Various pieces were placed upon it on top of a map of Fodlan and Felix picked out familiar shapes. Horses and pawns, as well as small castles. A brown box with a red velvet liner sat next to it with other pieces still sitting within.  
  
Ferdinand’s tent was clearly meant to double as a war room and bedroom of sorts. There was space enough inside to keep a comfier cot as well as a small chest off to the side that probably contained von Aegir’s signature cavalier armor. The man had a notoriety on horseback and was not to be trifled with in that field. Felix held respect for him, despite his distaste for the man’s tic for uptalking the nobility.  
  
“Ah, Felix,” Ferdinand’s smile was bright as he greeted him, but… Felix took a few steps inside, and it was much too friendly. He knew the ginger was friendly in general from how the men (and Caspar), but it wasn’t as if the two talked. But perhaps this was just how he was. In general Felix was always on edge around people who were overly friendly with him.  
  
“You asked for me, Prime Minister?” he was formal and to the point.  
  
Ferdinand nodded, and a tiny frown crossed his face then. Ah, there it was. The catch. “I must ask that you respectfully be honest with me,” he stated and the black haired man felt his nerves bubble under his skin. “You are not from the Alliance territories, am I right?”  
  
Felix saw no reason to lie, but his hand itched to be on his sword hilt, “No, I’m not.”  
  
“Where do you hail from?” Ferdinand pressed.  
  
“I was born in Faerghus, if that’s what you’re implying,” Felix said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.  
  
“Yes,” the other man trailed off, sighing. “Like I mentioned, please be forthright.” Felix’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You haven’t come here to spy on us, have you?”  
  
“No,” the answer came sharp and quick. He had to know something.  
  
“Why is it that a man from the Kingdom and of your repute would willingly join up with us? Faerghians are well known for their loyalty if not their chivalrous nature toward kind and country.” Ferdinand seemed to be searching for an answer, and one that Felix had no intention of giving.  
  
“Do I need a reason to find work as a mercenary?” Felix’s answer was measured. He had no intention of letting him know his roots or his birthright. “Your money pays better than rebels fizzling out at the end of their rope.”  
  
“Yet you continue to keep things close to your chest?” Ferdinand leaned his hands on the table, staring at him intensely. “Please, I implore you to speak truthfully about yourself.”  
  
“Prime Minister, my nature of being here is simply to fight. I wish to test myself against strong opponents,” he parroted the answer that he had given Caspar and it altogether wasn’t false. Felix did crave competition and talent by which to test his mettle, but it wasn’t the whole truth. “Why are you asking?”  
  
“...I had wished to give you a chance to explain yourself properly, but-” Ferdinand was cut off.  
  
Felix’s answer to why came quickly with the sound of metal and heavy footsteps. Three soldiers came in through the tent flap and Felix sighed. With being so close to those in the upper levels of the Empire’s command structure, someone had surely picked up on the fact that he was born in the Kingdom. But who had done it? It couldn’t have been Ferdinand, could it? He cursed inwardly. He’d been very good about it, covering his tracks, not speaking much of his name and for five solid years no one had found him out. There was no use fighting his way out of it and he let his arms be taken roughly on either side by the soldiers.

The how question didn’t take him long as Hubert von Vestra stepped into his field of vision, footsteps light like a reaper. The Empire’s spymaster and the retainer to the Emperor Edelgard Hresvelg herself. Felix had seen him once or twice in scant occasions where matters of state had called for it when he was younger, but the man was unforgettable. Even as time had gone by and the man had grown. He was still pale and wiry, his face a series of angles and severity. He could be likened to a crow, and he had the cunning to match. This was a man to be afraid of, but Felix would not give him the satisfaction.  
  
“Felix Hugo Frauldarius,” the name felt foreign on his ears after all these years.  
  
“Hubert von Vestra, I presume,” Felix said it knowingly, and his stare deadened. No need to pretend to be civil if this was how they were going to be treating him. Hubert went to stand near Ferdinand who said nothing, only continuing to let the pale man speak. “To what do I owe the honor?”

  
A chair was dragged from the side of the room and Felix was forced to sit by the soldiers at Hubert’s direction. He didn’t fight it, but certainly didn’t make it easy for them. Two other chairs were pulled aside for Hubert and Ferdinand as well and the two settled into them, the ginger more on edge. The severe man seemed to be almost enjoying himself however. He folded his hands in front of him on the table.  
  
“We have a proposition that we’d like you to consider.”


End file.
